War's End
by Rae Rihanna
Summary: I knew that he was an evil git plotting to conquer the world. But sometimes the heart just doesn't care about logic and that's when things get tricky. I wanted to settle our debt and be done with it. I never meant to fall in love with him. DG
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So this is basically a way for me to defeat the writer's block that's been haunting my novel. I'm not quite sure how often updates will be since I've got deadlines, shows, college, and work, but I'll try to get them up weekly. And reviews definitely help in that area.

You Need to Know: HBP never happened. Wash it from your mind, especially all the character developments we saw (i.e. how Voldemort secured his immortality and Draco is an inept Death Eater). Other than that, I will try to stick as close to canon as possible.

I don't own anything, unfortunately for all those D/G lovers out there. And many thanks to my wonderful Beta, Alicia. Couldn't do it without you!

* * *

Lucius Malfoy lounged regally on the floor of his cell in Azkaban, as only a pompous, absurdly wealthy, Pure-blooded socialite could. The cold stones cut into his backside and a part of him knew he'd carry the scars for the rest of his life, a choice to be sure. For once he was free from the wretched hellhole, his magic restored, he could easily wipe his body clean of the imperfections, rid himself of any indication of his stay at the worst place known to Wizardkind. But he wouldn't. No, the scars would remain, for hideous as they were, he took pleasure in them, as he did in all his markings. No Malfoy had completely healed a wound since the beginning of their line and he wasn't about to break the cycle. Besides, they were honourable scars, acquired in service to his Lord.

A smile graced his lips and Lucius stared up into the ceiling of the turret that was his temporary home. Voldemort had visited him that night and nearly every night since his imprisonment. Angry at first, the Dark Lord had quickly forgiven his favourite servant, his second-in-command. Severus might have been most trusted and Bellatrix most faithful, but Lucius held the favour and the closest thing to friendship the Dark Lord had ever known. In secret council, the Dark Lord had even expressed his wishes to one day declare Draco his heir, as he was past the point of being able to produce one of his own blood.

"My son," Lucius proudly whispered. "The next Dark Lord."

No matter what the public assumed, Lucius loved his family dearly. Of course, he was not a sentimental man, especially in public, but there was never a father more proud, more dedicated, more self-sacrificing for his child than Lucius Malfoy, albeit his ways were a bit unorthodox in comparison to the current norm. And, while he would have loved nothing more than to contact his son and tell him of the latest plans the Dark Lord had underway, he would have to wait. Dream-walking was a dangerous and powerful thing and, if he were to initiate communication when Draco was in class, forcing his son into a deep sleep, suspicions would rise and there could be trouble indeed.

And Lucius was quite certain Hogwarts was in session. If he was correct, and he most assuredly was, it was September 2, the beginning of Draco's sixth year and, more importantly, his twenty-second anniversary with Narcissa. His smile turned into a grin. Oh yes, he would visit his loyal wife and offer her what pleasure he could. It would be the first anniversary they'd spend without each other and their bonds enabled him to feel her disappointment, though try as she might to hide it.

As he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to fall into a peaceful darkness, Lucius delved through the layers of his subconscious until he found the tie he shared with Narcissa. It was a fine thread, crystal blue, the colour of her eyes, and he gave a gentle tug on it. The thread illuminated and flooded his mind with a blinding light, washing away the darkness like a tidal wave. And then there was peace and he was in the pleasure gardens of the Tahj Mahal, or at least his mind's recreation of it. He had rid himself of the tatter cloths of Azkaban and was dressed in blue Wizarding robes, darker than night. In front of him, sitting on a golden bench, was his wife, radiant as ever in rose-colored robes, their eyes locked onto each other.

Lucius walked quietly over to her, never breaking their gaze, and kissed the top of her hand. "_Je t'aime mon bijou_."

Narcissa smiled at him, her normally icy eyes soft and yielding, and pressed his hand to her heart. "_Je t'aime mon âme_."

They passed a few hours talking, and many more partaking in less chaste activities. When they were spent, lying naked in the floral fields of this reverie of theirs, Lucius whispered into her ear, though there was no need to speak softly. He regaled Narcissa with the prisoners' latest attempts to break out of Azkaban and she told him of all that the summer had brought, all that he'd missed. They spoke of times past and yet to come, of pureblood rule and the power their family would gain. And, in the comfort of her arms, Lucius told his wife what the Dark Lord aspired for, how their family's position would be forever secured once all the plans were set into motion and the Boy-Who-Lived was finally defeated come the Verrnal Equinox.

* * *

"Rotten luck, Harry," said Ron through a mouthful of potatoes. Hermione wrinkled her nose at his crudeness, but otherwise ignored him and turned to face Harry, who was staring woefully at his school schedule.

"There's nothing rotten about it. You should be glad you made it into Advanced Potions. You have to take it in order to train as an Auror."

Harry scowled and stabbed at his chicken breast, itching to throw it across the Great Hall so that it would smack Snape (whose black eyes were shooting daggers his way, as if somehow he'd cheated on his OWLS) in the face. Not that Harry was happy about the arrangement either. True, he wanted to be an Auror, but if that meant spending another two years being taught by Snape… well, perhaps another career wouldn't be so bad.

"I don't know how I scored an O on the test anyway. I must have been channeling you, Hermione, because I could never have done that well on my own."

Ron snorted. "You got that right."

Ginny, who was sitting beside Hermione, turned from her conversation with her current boyfriend, Dean, and eyed Ron in amusement. "Says the boy who barely got 6 OWLs."

"Shut up, Ginny," he answered, blushing despite his efforts not to. "Fifth year's a hard one, let's see how well you do."

At this, Ginny and Hermione shared a knowing glance and tried to keep from laughing. Though she'd never admit it out loud, Ginny was one of the smartest witches in her year, possibly even the school. And she worked hard for those marks, despite her other mischievous behaviours, which was something else that Ron didn't know about. No one knew about it, except perhaps Dumbledore, who knew nearly everything that went on in his school.

Ginny Weasley suffered from a mild case of insomnia, not that she needed much sleep to begin with. Five hours was typically enough for her and on the off day that it wasn't, a Replenishing Potion usually did the trick. In the wee hours of the morning, after most sensible people had been enchanted by Morpheus, God of Dreams, Ginny would roam the halls of Hogwarts. After five years of wandering, she knew every nook, every secret room, even the other Houses' dorms, save for Slytherin. For what self-respecting Slytherin would allow a Gryffindor into their lair?

Her favourite room was, of course, the Room of Requirement, which she'd known about well before it'd been used as the DA's headquarters the previous year. It offered an infinite amount of knowledge and endless possibilities. In the past two years, since she'd uncovered this little treasure in her third year, Ginny had learned to speak French, begun practicing to be an Animagus, and had learned spells and charms that were above even that of a seventh years' skill. All this was done in secret and Ginny doubted even Dumbledore knew what went on inside the Room of Requirement when it found itself in her possession. Because if he did know, he surely would have put a stop to some of her activities. Not everything she did in the room was completely legal, to say the least.

"I'm sure she'll do fine, Ron." Hermione answered. "Unlike some people, who I shall not name, Ginny doesn't leave everything to the last minute. Really, the OWLs wouldn't have been so hard if you-"

"Just hadn't procrastinated," Ron finished, rolling his eyes. "I know, Hermione. You've only said it about five hundred thousand times."

Hermione blushed and ducked her head, taking a small bite of her Yorkshire pudding. "I have not."

Harry and Ginny smiled at each other over their goblets of Pumpkin juice. "Good to see nothing's changed since I've been gone," she said.

Hermione's head snapped up at this, her eyes alit with curiosity. "Oh yes, how was Romania, Ginny? You must have learned all sorts of stuff from the Healers and what a wonderful place to be, all those dragons and injuries for you to work on."

As the dinner continued, Ginny entertained her Housemates, who'd all leaned in towards the group upon Hermione's question, with tales of her summer spent in Romania training with the Healers on Charlie's dragon reservation. The conversation continued as they congregated in the common room and by ten o'clock, Ginny was answering the last few questions they had. No, she hadn't tried to ride the dragons, did she look suicidal? Yes, she'd stayed in a tent with the other Healers-in-training and no they weren't all female (at this Ron began to turn an awful sort of purple colour, until Ginny assured him that nothing had happened and she could take care of herself, thankyouverymuch). When the crowd had started to disperse, leaving Ginny in peace, one listener had remained and asked a final question, one that took Ginny by surprise.

"Did you see anyone die?" came the soft voice of Luna Lovegood.

Ginny turned to look at her best friend who, weird as she may be, was always welcome in the Gryffindor common room, especially after the incident at the Department of Mysteries. Luna's wide blue eyes waited patiently for an answer and Ginny glanced around to see if anyone else had heard her question. Ron, Hermione, and Harry had retired to the couch by the fire and were speaking in hushed tones, as always, their heads bent and faces serious.

"Come on Luna, I'll walk you back to your common room."

The pair made their way out of the common room and trekked to Ravenclaw's tower, mostly in silence. They were nearly to the entrance, which was guarded by a statue of some ancient, yet well-known wizard, when Ginny finally spoke again.

"His name was Ollie. He was eighteen and from America and he died from a gut wound he got from a Hungarian Horntail. He was dead in less than a minute."

Luna placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder, offering comfort for the pain she saw in those mahogany eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ginny shook her head. "Not now."

"I understand," Luna replied and the two continued without speaking, each merely content with the other's presence.

* * *

It was precisely twelve thirty-two and Draco Malfoy was sprawled out on one of the many leather couches of the green and silver Slytherin common room, his head resting in Pansy's lap as her manicured fingers ran through his silvery blonde locks. On the floor in front of the Prince of Slytherin were the only other people Draco liked enough to call his friends. And no, they were not Crabbe and Goyle. Those two served only as bodyguards, nothing more, not that Draco particularly wanted their attentions. But they insisted on trailing behind him like lost dogs and were therefore treated as such. They took up position behind him, standing straight, their faces emotionless and ready for orders.

No, Draco's friends were much brighter and far less acquiescent, which he admired. They surrounded him in a semi-circle, Blaise Zabini, Dorian Urquhart, and Endora Vaisey. Each brought something different to the group; each had their own unique abilities for which Draco had chosen them. And there could be no other word for it because Draco Malfoy had indeed formed this group, his inner circle.

"Choose wisely," his father had said. "For one day you will lead the world and you must be sure your councilors are both faithful and competent."

They undeniably were. Blaise, with his dark skin, olive eyes, and sinewy features, could only be described as beautiful and was the most persuasive Slytherin Draco had ever met. There wasn't a person he couldn't entrance with his charm, if it was his wish, even a Gryffindor. Dorian, on the other hand, was ruggedly handsome and a model example of what a Slytherin should be: aggressive and cunning. He had a permanent five o'clock shadow, curly dirty blonde hair that constantly fell in front of his dark brown eyes, and could nearly rival Goyle in size, though Dorian was pure muscle.

Endora was a part of the group for the sole fact that she reminded Draco of his mother, though he'd never admit to it. She was tall and lean, like Narcissa, and had clever, light blue eyes. Endora had a knack for noticing little details and spoke only when she had something important to say, which made her all the more intriguing. Not to mention there was not a person alive Endora was unable to seduce, which was a power Draco admired. And yet, though Draco knew his parents would approve if he asked for her as a bride, he could never convince himself that the match would make him happy. Regardless of what people thought of him, Draco wanted to love his wife, or at the very least carry some sort of romantic feelings for her. While he was attracted to Endora, he knew he'd never love her, not in that way. Tradition be damned, but Draco was not going to suffer through an arranged marriage.

Pansy's involvement with the group had never even been a question. The Parkinson family was one of the few who could compete with the Malfoys in financial matters. They still fell short, mind you, but they were in the upper echelon of the Pureblood hierarchy. Besides, Draco and Pansy had been raised together and had been friends before they ever even knew of Hogwarts. And, despite what the rest of the school thought, Pansy was smart, maybe even smarter than that stupid Mudblood Granger.

If she'd been able to apply herself to her schooling, as she'd really wanted to, she could have easily scored an O on all nine OWLs, but such intellect was intimidating to men. Or at least that was the belief of her mother. So Pansy was forced to take an easier class load than she'd desired and had to purposefully score lower on her OWLs than she could have. That was one of the few things the Parkinson and Malfoy families did not see eye to eye on. Narcissa thought Kendal Parkinson was too old-fashioned when it came to the raising of her daughter and Draco quite agreed.

But it worked to their advantage. No one suspected Pansy to be intellectual and she played her part so well that adults often slipped in front of her, affording her information that she could have acquired in no other way. Yes, Pansy was a powerful ally to be sure. And an even better friend.

"Have you spoken to him lately?" Dorian asked and Draco didn't need to ask who "he" was.

"It's been a few days," he replied with a shake of his head, "but I suspected as much. What with school just starting and all, but I'll initiate contact tonight, after I take care of some business."

They all eyed each other knowingly. "When do you have to leave?"

Draco turned his head up to look at Pansy. "Soon," he said.

"_Que ferez-vous_?" Blaise asked, his hands idly playing with the bearskin rug that lay under him.

Draco smiled and watched the shadows that the light from the flames of the fireplace cast about the room. They twisted and turned like snakes, there one moment, gone the next, completely transformed into something else. The room was utterly dark and empty otherwise, all its other normal inhabitants dutifully in bed. It was common knowledge that to be in the common room past twelve without a direct invitation from one of _Les Dirigeants Sombres,_ as their housemates had come to know them, was to place oneself in a situation best left not experienced. And so Draco and the others often held their meetings in the middle of the night when they were sure of their privacy and security of their surroundings. Of course, as an extra precaution, the group set impenetrable charms around the room and temporarily deafened Crabbe and Goyle. Some called it paranoid, but Draco preferred to think of it as a necessary precaution.

"_Les enchères de notre Seigneur, mon ami_," Draco replied, subconsciously rubbing at his left forearm.

Blaise's eyes widened and he abruptly sat up from his reclining position. He leaned forward, dark green eyes wide and filled with excited curiosity, and licked his lips. "_Avez-vous été choisi déjà?"_

"_Non, vous n'y savez Ses sentiments_."

"_Le seront fait bientôt _assez," Endora said, her voice soft but commanding and hopeful.

The others nodded in agreement as Draco rose. He straightened the silk, ebony robes he'd changed into that complemented his black trousers and indigo shirt and inclined his head in farewell. "It's time," he said, easily switching back to his native language and quickly removing the charms on Crabbe and Goyle as well as those on the room itself.

"When will you be back?" Pansy inquired, standing with the others and stretching her stiff muscles as politely as she could.

Draco shrugged. "Don't wait up. It could be a while."

With that, the Malfoy heir swept out of Slytherin's common room. However, he was not alone. A silent shadow had followed him from the darkest corner of the room and gone unnoticed by all, including Endora. The figure's steps were sure and soft as they continued in the same path Draco walked. They were nearly to one of Hogwarts' many hidden exits when the youngest Malfoy abruptly stopped and turned. He saw and heard nothing, but he knew better than to trust his senses.

"You can come out. I know you're following me."

The figure emerged from the shadows to reveal the impressive Millicent Bulstrode. Her black hair was swept back in a tight braid and her harsh features were accentuated by the torchlight. An uneasy smile found its way onto her face and she bowed her head.

"Malfoy."

Draco smirked, but it was void of any of its usual malice and could even be considered slightly friendly. "Millicent. You don't have to stick to the shadows when it's just the two of us."

"Old habit, I'm afraid."

Like Pansy, many assumed Millicent was some brainless clod, but this was not true. Ugly she may be, Millicent was sharp and strong and had served as Draco Malfoy's true protector since their acceptance into Hogwarts. Though some might find it strange that a mere girl would be in charge of guarding the sole Malfoy heir, this had been the Bulstrode family's duty for many centuries now, dating back to a thousand years before. Arneath Bulstrode, one of Millicent's forefathers, had been madly in love with Kalissa Malfoy, and she with him.

Yet, in those days, all marriages were arranged and Kalissa had been promised to another. Arneath, in a last desperate attempt to win favour with the Malfoys, had challenged one of their most deadly enemies to a duel. He lost and, as he lay dying on the field, Kalissa came to him. Using black magic that had yet to be banned, she sacrificed her own life to save his. On that very day, Arneath, so distraught by the death of his beloved, took a blood oath that would bind his descendants to ensure the survival of future Malfoys to come. So it had been since and so it always would be.

Millicent's father, Thaddeus, had dedicated his life to protecting Lucius and so it was Millicent's duty to protect Draco. She was one of the few people Draco trusted and, though she played a dumb, friendless brute, she was anything but and Draco had promised he would one day reward her for her dedication and loyalty.

The two continued their steady journey in silence. Millicent's hands rested on the sides of her broad hips, one on her wand and the other fingering the hilt of her dagger. Draco's eyes scanned the darkness, ready for whatever was to come.

* * *

With footsteps light as air, Ginny made her way swiftly around the lake, running so fast that she could not suck in breath quickly enough. Her lungs screamed and her legs burned, but still she did not stop. _Almost there_, she thought. _Just a little bit further and you'll be done_. It was nearly two in the morning and still Ginny could not force herself to sleep. So she'd headed out to the lake to run a few laps, hoping to exhaust her body to the point of collapse. Twenty strides later, Ginny had reached the edge of the lake, where it met the wall that guarded Hogwarts and all that dwelled within. She happily fell against the wall and sunk to the ground, her knees giving out on her.

For a moment, Ginny just sat there, taking in the sights and smells of all that surrounded her. The clean scent of water, the fresh smell of freshly cut grass, and the musk of the forest. As her eyes glanced about, she was struck by an odd sight. Her eyes narrowed, tried to ensure she was not seeing things. But Ginny knew that was unlikely. She had excellent vision, better than most at least. And she knew what moved towards her was not a creation of her mind.

It was an amber haze, warm and inviting. It crept along the grass, out of the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Every blade it touched prickled with energy and a low hum emanated from it. Slowly, the mist floated over to Ginny. It did not touch her, but formed a cocoon of mystical energy around her, heating her to her very core. It felt like home and her mother's arms and for one moment, one blissful instant, Ginny felt pure, like freshly fallen snow. The memories of her past, the Chamber of Secrets, the Department of Mysteries, Ollie's death, none of them mattered anymore. They did not cut her like knives, they did not demand retribution. She was renewed, washed clean, and her soul had never felt so light.

But the peace was not to last forever and suddenly it was ripped away from Ginny, eliciting a cry from her. Her eyes, which had fluttered shut in ecstasy, snapped open, raw and hurt. The pain was back, the guilt weighed heavy on her soul once more, and the amber haze was quickly returning to the forest. Before she even knew what she was doing, Ginny was up and on her feet and running towards it. Her feet were bare, as she'd removed her shoes earlier, and the fallen branches of the forest's great trees sliced into her sensitive soles, but she didn't care. Ginny ran further, faster, frantically trying to regain the sense of peace the haze had offered. But she'd lost track of the mist and now she was blindly turning in circles, her red hair whipping about her and her brown eyes wide and wild. Another scream tore from her throat and she fell to her knees as sobs wracked her body.

"Why me? Dear gods above, why me?'

"Why not?" came the reply from somewhere behind her.

Ginny stopped crying, her fear taking over her sorrow. She lifted her head and pivoted her body slowly. When she faced her unexpected companion, Ginny gasped, her hands flying to her breast, as if she were afraid her rapidly beating heart would pound its way out of her chest. He was huge, probably at least six and a half feet tall, and, though he was gaunt and pale, there was no doubt he was at least three times as strong as her. And twice as fast. Before she could think, instinct took over and Ginny whipped out her wand, casting a curse at the vampire before her. He merely chuckled and ducked the spell. In the blink of an eye, he was next to her, tossing her wand from her grasp and jerking her body up so that it pressed against his.

Ginny struggled and tried to fight him, but it was useless. His strong fingers held her still and when she kneed him in the groin, he simply grimaced and threw them both at the ground. Now her fear froze her, for she realized it wasn't just blood he wanted. He pushed himself against her body, hard and ready, and Ginny whimpered as he moved to suck on the delicate place between neck and collarbone. She bucked against him and the vampire snarled. Their eyes locked for a moment and Ginny cursed herself as she realized her mistake. Those startling black eyes paralyzed her, stole her will and bent it completely to their own purposes. He released her then, for there would be no more resistance, and took his time as he fondled her body.

She could no longer fight, no longer scream, but she could feel. Ginny could feel his cold hands on her bare flesh, taking liberties even Dean had not been granted yet. Tears leaked out of her eyes and flowed down her freckled cheeks. He grabbed roughly at her breasts and it hurt. Her body convulsed of its own accord and the vampire chuckled. He stood then and for one foolish moment, Ginny thought perhaps he would let her go; perhaps he would not do this awful thing. But as he removed his shirt and trousers, leaving himself bare before her, Ginny's fear returned tenfold.

_Artemis_, Ginny began to pray in earnest._ Help me please!_

"No god can save you now," the vampire replied and Ginny's heart sank. If he was powerful enough to read her mind, then no one could save her, even on the off chance that someone might find her. He moved to undo Ginny's jeans and her heart cried out again for compassion from her patron goddess.

"Unsuspecting virgins are always the best," he whispered in her ear. "Because blood always tastes better from the cunt."

When the vampire had finally finished removing her trousers and started on her underwear, Ginny knew all was lost and again prayed, but this time to Thanatos in hopes that he would take her life and spare her the pain that was surely to come.

A/N: So I hope you all enjoyed. Please let me know what you think through reviews. Translations are below and forgive any mistakes. French is not my native tongue.

1 I love you, my jewel.

2 I love you, my soul.

3 What will you do?

4 The Dark Leaders

5 The bidding of our Lord, my friend.

6 Have you been chosen already?

7 No, you know His feelings on that.

8 It will be done soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: And here's Chapter Two. I hope you all enjoy. Again, please review. And many thanks to my ever-patient Beta, Alicia.

The vampire's hands danced on the band of Ginny's underwear and his fangs glittered as he sunk them into the side of her neck, taking a quick taste before continuing on. His bite did not hurt as much as she had thought it would, but Ginny knew what was to come and she steeled herself for the worst. _Gods_, she thought bitterly,_ what a way to lose my virginity._ But before her assailant could go any farther, a silver dagger cut through the darkness and plunged into his left shoulder, inches above his heart. He cried out and shoved away from Ginny, his hands trying to stop the flow of blood that trickled from the wound. The vampire whipped around frantically, eyes flashing and teeth bared.

"Who's there?" he snarled, so enraged that spittle flew from his mouth. He'd been caught off guard, hadn't even heard the approach of an intruder, and that frightened him.

A figure stepped out from the shadows. Though the stranger was nowhere near as tall as the vampire, he (or was it a she?) was twice as wide and just as imposing. The vampire stepped back, surprised, for the figure before him was empty, devoid of all emotion. There was no fear, no hatred, no anger, not even a smidgen of curiosity. This creature was calm and ready to do what was necessary to protect the innocent lying paralyzed on the ground. And this confused the vampire more than anything else, for there was no sympathy, no emotion for his victim. No, he could sense that this stranger did not care what fate the young girl suffered, so why come to her aid?

"That was a warning," came the androgynous voice. "Flee now and keep your life. Stay and you'll die."

"Why do this? You care nothing for this silly bint, why bother saving her?"

"Leave now. I won't warn you again."

And already the figure was reaching into the depths of its robe, preparing another dagger to heave into the vampire's chest. This time, it would not miss his heart. Glancing down at the frozen girl in disgust, the vampire muttered, "This isn't over," fled into the night, and quickly melted into the darkness of the forest. Ginny, momentarily relieved, made to move, but realized she could not and that, though the vampire's entrancing gaze was gone, she was still paralyzed. Her breath became caught in her throat when she realized she was still in a precarious position with no way of breaking free should this stranger intend her harm. Just because he'd saved her from one vicious fate did not mean he didn't have another in store for her. The figure did not approach her, however, but rather gazed at her through dark eyes. In fact, for a moment, Ginny feared he would leave her as she lay, until someone else emerged from the shadows and the first figure bowed his head to the second.

"She's been bitten and the vampire's venom paralyzes her. What do you want me to do?"

"There's a potion that can revoke the venom's effects," the second figure answered after some consideration. "But we'll have to return to my room to get it."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"What other choice do we have? Take her to Pomfrey? Hah. The old hag would only find some way to blame this whole mess on us. We'll just have to take certain precautions."

The two shared a knowing glance before the first nodded and made his way over to Ginny. She eyed the figure warily, but refused to show the fear in her eyes that she felt in her heart. The figure was almost close enough for Ginny to identify when he pulled his wand out from under his robes and pointed it lazily her way. Muttering something under his breath, the figure cast a spell that rammed Ginny hard in the chest. Then the world around her faded as she fell into oblivion.

* * *

Once the Weasley girl's eyes fluttered shut, Millicent shook off the hood that covered her face and bent low, scooping up the limp body before her. She turned back around to face Draco, still hidden in the forest's shadows. He nodded at her and turned to head back to the castle.

"Won't we look sort of suspicious? Carrying around a half-naked and unconscious she-Weasel?" Millicent asked as she followed Draco back to Hogwarts.

"We'll take the underground passageway to the Slytherin Common Room. That'll minimize our risk."

Millicent nodded and the two continued in silence. They stuck to the shadows, gliding across the ground as quietly as Dementors, their dragon-hide boots enchanted to make no noise and leave no imprints in the grass. Draco knew his guardian would be alert enough for the both of them and so he let his mind wander.

He was glad for the cloak that hid his features, for he was still high from the power he'd received earlier. His eyes trailed down and marveled at his gleaming fingers, which extended just slightly past the sleeves of his cloak. Draco brought them together and smiled as energy bounced between his hands, sending off small sparks. He glanced back at Millicent, whose right eyebrow was raised, giving him a small look of disapproval.

"Dumbledore could be watching."

Draco glanced up to the Headmaster's tower and was pleased to note that his eyesight was much improved. He could clearly see that no one was watching them. In fact, the only sign of life was that stupid phoenix snoozing on his perch. He smirked and, though he knew there was no harm, dropped his hands all the same to ease Millicent's mind.

They reached the castle's outer wall in no time and easily found the entrance to the underground stairwell. Placing his right hand on the correct brick, Draco muttered, "Porta Pro Putus." A small portion of the bricks simply vanished, leaving an entryway that led to a downward spiraling staircase. Draco stepped in and Millicent followed, both having to duck down to avoid grazing the top of the five-foot entrance. As they continued their descent, torches lit along the walls in accordance with their steps. It wasn't long before they reached their destination.

Draco pushed lightly against the back of the portrait of Cecily Slytherin, Salazar's wife, and it swung open. Draco jumped from the ledge, as the portrait was suspended directly to the right and above the fireplace, and turned to face Millicent. He knew better than to ask if she needed assistance and the hefty girl stepped off the six-foot ledge and landed as if it were nothing, though the room nearly shook with the force of the impact. As the portrait closed, Cecily eyed the unconscious girl with something akin to amusement.

"Rough night, Lord Malfoy?"

Rolling his eyes at the title, as in reality he would not hold it until his father passed from this world, Draco ignored the portrait and continued on to his room, taking the staircase on the left that would lead down to the boys' dormitories. Unlike the rest of the Houses, Slytherin students each had their own bedrooms. This was likely due to the fact that nearly all Slytherins came from wealthy backgrounds and thus their parents were able to donate a significant amount of Galleons to ensure the comfort and privacy of their children. Plus, Slytherin House was very exclusive, with most years having less than eight students. Draco's year had the largest class yet, with a total of ten. After all, Dark Wizards tended to be partial to Durmstrang and often sent their offspring there. Not to say that all Slytherins are Dark Wizards, mind you, but many could be classified in this category.

Once they'd reached his room, guarded by a portrait of a wizard dressed in brown, fifteenth century robes trimmed in gold, Draco gave the portrait his password, television, and they entered his room. It had been Millicent's idea to use a Muggle term for his password. After all, who would ever guess that a Pure-blooded aristocrat who hated Muggles as much as Draco would ever use one of their inventions as his password?

And, Draco had to admit, it was quite ingenious. When Millicent had first announced that she would be taking Muggle Studies, the other Slytherins had thought her daft. However, the knowledge Millicent had gained had proved quite useful throughout the years. 'It's always best to know your inferiors,' she'd said. 'How do you expect to control them if you don't know their weaknesses?'

Draco's room was a comfortable size, though nowhere near as spacious as his bedroom back home. He had a rather large bed decked in black sheets of the finest Egyptian cotton with a goose down comforter and matching pillows. His room was fairly bare, aside from a dresser set, wardrobe, and desk table (all made of teak). He did, however, have his own fireplace and the floors, instead of their usual dull, grey brick, were covered with plush black carpeting. Draco removed his cloak and placed it in his wardrobe. Millicent dropped Ginny's body on the black leather loveseat that was positioned in front of the hearth and threw herself into the matching chair next to it.

"Bint's heavier than she looks," Millicent said. "What now?"

"I can handle things from here."

Millicent sat up straighter in the leather chair, not liking her sudden dismissal. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. What will you do when she wakes up?"

"Let me worry about that. It's been a long night, why don't you go get some rest?"

Begrudgingly, Millicent nodded, noting that Draco's last statement was not a request. She stood and bowed her head slightly, easing out of the room as she did so. "You know where I'll be."

"I think I can handle one Weasley on my own," he replied sarcastically, but Millicent was already gone.

Draco turned to the girl lying on his couch and took in her appearance. Her hair was mussed and her body dirty and Draco wondered whether he should clean the couch or just throw it away. But aside from her unkempt looks, Draco had to admit she wasn't too bad. He'd never really taken notice of her before, not in that way. After all, the clothes she wore never really did much for her figure and she rarely bothered with makeup. Ginny Weasley was not someone he'd ever considered beautiful. Her hair was that awful red that all Weasleys were cursed with and her skin was covered in freckles.

But she did have a lovely body. She wasn't overly thin, like Tracey and Daphne, who were constantly boasting about their twenty-two inch waists. No, the youngest Weasley was soft and supple, with a nice round arse that her knickers highlighted. Her chest wasn't all that impressive, but Draco was of the firm belief that all a woman truly needed was enough for a good mouthful. And, beneath those annoying freckles, she really did have a nice skin complexion. Fair, like his own. And it was obvious she took good care of herself, for Draco could see the small outline of muscle just beneath her skin.

_She's built for sex_, he thought.

Draco's eyes widened when he realized where his brain had taken him and nearly smacked himself. For love of Dionysus, she was a _Weasley_! Disgusted, Draco stomped over to his wardrobe, which was actually enchanted so that the inside of it was nearly as large as his bedroom, and stepped in. He opened up one of the many chests that resided in the wardrobe and plucked out a small vial of plum liquid. Walking back over to the body of Ginny Weasley, he uncorked the vial and opened her mouth, forcing the liquid down her throat. After disposing of the vial, he pointed his wand at her.

"Finite Incantatem."

It only took a moment before her eyes opened and then widened when she saw who stood above her. The fear in her eyes was only there for an instant before it was replaced by suspicion and anger. Her body convulsed, but did not move otherwise, and Draco noticed that her breathing had quickened, pumping her chest up and down rapidly.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Weaselette. I haven't done anything to you but give you a potion to reverse the effects of the vampire's venom. You'll be able to move in a few seconds, but don't try anything stupid."

It was twelve seconds exactly before Ginny was able to sit up and even then she had to use her arms to brace herself. Her eyes never left Draco's. She opened her mouth to speak and her voice came out scratchy. Shaking her head, Ginny cleared her throat and tried again.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Would I be asking if I did?" Ginny snapped and Draco glared hard at her.

"Watch your temper, Weasley. You're not in Gryffindor surrounded by your noble protectors and there's no one here who'll come to your rescue."

"I can take care of myself, Malfoy. Or do you not remember that little Bat Bogey Hex I set on you last year?"

Draco had to keep his temper in check and resist the urge to whip out his wand and show the girl before him a thing or two about hexes. "I remember well enough," he replied, his voice laced with anger. "But as it appears, I am the only one in this room with a wand. So, as I said before, watch your temper, witch."

Realization dawned in Ginny's eyes and she looked about frantically for her wand. "Where is it, where's it gone?"

"How should I know? Is it my fault that you're forgetful and clumsy?"

Her brown eyes were instantly on Draco, sharp and accusing. "What have you done with it?"

"Me? I've done nothing, but perhaps that vampire who was raping you would know where it's disappeared to. Why don't you go ask him?"

That shut Ginny up quick and Draco was thankful for the silence. "Now, do you want to know what happened or not?"

"Yes." Her voice came out timid and slightly frightened and Draco almost felt bad for the barb he shot at her. Almost.

So Draco relayed the events as he knew them to her, leaving out Millicent's identity and Slytherin's passageway. When she'd questioned him as to who the other figure was, he'd simply told her it was no concern of hers. Once he was finished, Ginny sat there in silence, not quite sure what to say. Finally, she settled on a question.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Draco replied, and it was partially true. As an afterthought, Draco realized how useful it would be to have a Weasley in his debt. After all, their family was a known supporter of Dumbledore and everyone suspected that there was at least one Weasley amongst the Order of the Phoenix, probably more. But, what initially had driven Draco to save Ginny Weasley's life was a mystery even to him.

"Thank you," Ginny said after a moment's hesitation. "For whatever reason you did it, thank you. I… I owe you my life."

"That's a Wizard's debt, Weasley."

"I know," she whispered and her voice nearly broke with the next question. "What do you want from me?"

Ginny's hands were trembling and she tried to conceal her nervousness by sitting on them, but it didn't matter. Draco could almost smell the anxiety radiating off of her it was so obvious. He'd saved her life and thus she was bound to him until her debt was repaid. It was an ancient magic that could not be broken, even by the gods themselves.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out. Until then, you're not to tell anyone about what's happened. Do it and I'll ensure your payment is as painful as possible, understand?"

"I won't tell anyone, Malfoy. There's no need to threaten me."

"That wasn't a threat, Weasley. It was a promise. Now get out of here."

Ginny stood and made her way to the entrance of Draco's room. She stopped halfway however, when a sudden thought grabbed her. "Malfoy, what were you doing in the Forbidden Forest anyways?"

Draco stiffened, something that didn't escape Ginny's attention. "That's none of your business."

Eyeing him for a moment longer, Ginny turned and made to exit through the portrait before Draco's voice stopped her. "Where do you think you're going?"

Ginny twisted her head around to look at him incredulously. "You told me to leave, remember?"

"And you plan to just waltz out of Slytherin, in your underwear no less? Tell me, Weasley, do you happen to know your way around our dorms? Because there are places in this House a little girl like you would definitely not want to end up."

Clenching her jaw, Ginny pivoted so that she faced him fully. He'd saved her life and she was grateful for it, but the condescending tone of his voice was really getting to her. "One, there's no place in your slimy snake pit I'd ever want to be and seeing as how I've already ended up in the worst place I can imagine, that being your bedroom, after nearly being raped by a vampire, I don't see how things can get much worse. Two, there doesn't seem to be another way out of here, so unless you plan on giving me a Portkey or something, I don't really have any other options. Three, its not my fault I'm stuck in nothing but my knickers seeing as you're the idiot who left my trousers in the forest. And don't you dare keep talking to me as if I'm some idiotic child. You may be the only Dark Wizard in this room, Malfoy, but you're not the only one with Dark experiences."

Draco sat in shock at the youngest Weasley's tirade. She was chastising him. The little bint had the nerve to mouth off to him in his own House and wandless, no less. Draco didn't know whether to hex her or laugh. So he did the only thing he could without mixed feelings or reservations.

"There's Floo powder by the fireplace, Weasley," he said, pointing at the jar that sat atop the fireplace mantle, in an astonishingly calm voice. "But by all means, if you'd rather parade through the school half-naked, feel free to do so."

Ginny flushed bright red and stomped over to the fireplace as fast as she could. She quickly grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and stepped into the grate. When she turned around, she nearly jumped. Draco had moved so that he was directly in front of her, mere inches separating the two.

"I'll be in contact."

Throwing the powder, Ginny ignored his comment and shouted, "Gryffindor Common Room!" before being swept up in green flames and disappearing from sight.

* * *

It'd been one week, three days, and twenty-one hours since Ginny had last spoken to Draco Malfoy, not that she was counting. And it wasn't like she wanted to see him. No, she was actually quite dreading their next meeting. What would he ask of her? And what if she couldn't do it? There was a wizard's debt between them and, if she refused to fulfill it, it could mean her life.

Shaking her head, Ginny tried to rid her mind of such thoughts and returned to the task at hand. It'd been nearly a year since she began researching how to be an Animagus and she'd yet to accomplish the task, or even attempt it. Truth be told, she was quite nervous about the whole matter, as it was an extremely difficult and dangerous process. Even if she happened to be able to transform herself into an animal, nothing guaranteed she'd retain her human mind or be able to put herself right again. But Ginny would be thrice damned before she asked anyone for help. More than likely they'd tell her parents about her attempts, who'd then forbid her to go any farther in the process. She could hear her mother now. _'It's far too dangerous, Ginny, and completely unnecessary. Not to mention reckless. Do you know how rare it is to be a true Animagus? What in the world's possessed you?'_

Of course, then her mother would pale considerably and everyone would tense up, waiting to see if the word "possess" would send her back to the quivering, insecure eleven year old she'd once been. No, it was better for everyone involved if no one knew about her hopes about being an Animagus. Which is obviously why the current bane of her existence had to choose that moment to seek out the Room of Requirement, where she was currently located, and stumble upon her well-kept secret. Well-kept until then, at least. Would she always find herself out of favour with The Fates?

"Training to be an Animagus, Weasley? Isn't that a bit advanced for your skills?"

Ginny whipped around, her wand pointed and at the ready, shocked at the intrusion. Her eyes were wide and her body tense. How had she not heard him enter? "Gods, Malfoy, where in the hell did you come from?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at the wand pointed directly at his chest. He smirked and then completely ignored the silent warning, as if he was not at all intimidated by the redheaded Gryffindor before him, and moved to sit down on the chair at the end of the table. He stopped, however, and eyed the wooden furniture in disdain.

"Couldn't you have thought up a more comfortable setting?" he asked, kicking the chair away and then letting himself fall backwards.

Ginny held her breath, sure that he was going to hit the cold, stone floor. Yet, in the blink of an eye, a comfy leather chair had appeared and Draco landed safely and annoyingly gracefully on it. Ginny sighed, more in disappointment than relief. It would have been so amusing to watch Malfoy land on his arrogant arse. She put her wand away, sensing the Slytherin prince meant her no harm.

"It's comfortable enough for me. Besides, I don't recall inviting you to join me."

"I'm a Malfoy, Weasley. I go where I please. It comes with the luxuries and privileges that aristocracy offers."

"Apparently so does conceit and a complete disregard for everyone around you," Ginny replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Jealous?"

"Hardly."

"Liar."

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she threw a disgusted look at Draco. "That's rich, coming from you."

"Really? And when have I ever lied to you, Weasley?"

He had her there. In fact, as far back as Ginny could remember, she'd never heard Draco lie about anything. Oh, he was still a nasty git who loved to torment others, but she honestly couldn't recall a time she'd heard him lie. Embellish events, oh yes, but never full out lie. And, if she were to be truthful, there was a regrettable truthfulness to his words. Though Ginny loved her family dearly, there was always some part of her that was, perhaps, a little bit envious of those whom money afforded a relatively easy life, not that she'd ever admit to it. So Ginny dodged the question and repeated her earlier one.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? What do you want?"

"Actually, I'd come to use the Room of Requirement for my own purposes, but it seems you've beaten me to it. Now, normally I'd demand you leave," at this Ginny snorted, "but I'm a bit curious as to how and why you plan to become an Animagus. And how you got your wand back."

"Well, I simply asked Luna to Accio my wand for me and as for the Animagus training, I guess you're just going to have to keep on wondering."

Draco shrugged and made to stand. "So be it, I suppose I could always go ask your brother if he knows his precious little sister is dabbling in such dangerous magic."

"No!" Ginny shouted and stood, reaching a hand out to grab Draco's robes. He stopped and turned, staring at the hand that held the fine fabric that adorned his body.

Ginny dropped his sleeve like it'd burned her, but kept her gaze hard on his face. "You can't tell Ron."

"And why is that?"

"He'd make me stop."

Draco turned to fully face Ginny and eyed her carefully. His face was blank and Ginny wondered what he was thinking. She knew behind that chiseled and handsome face was an acute mind and it made her nervous. He was a wild card, someone she couldn't even begin to predict. Before, she'd easily categorized him as evil and self-centered, placing him in the box of "sworn enemy." But now, after he'd rescued her, she was mystified. Was this some sort of plan to get her to betray her family? Ginny had considered the possibility that Malfoy had hired the vampire to attack her so that he could save her and have her in his debt. But she'd quickly dismissed the idea. After all, if that had been the case, then she wouldn't be bound to him by a wizard's debt. And she could feel the invisible connection between them, knew that she was obligated to do anything he asked or forfeit her life. It was clear his rescue had been an unplanned action.

So why had he done it? Why had he not collected the debt yet? And why was she not nearly as frightened of the man before her as she should be? True, she could handle her own, but Ginny was quite sure that Draco Malfoy had grown more powerful over the summer. Something had changed. He was no longer a simple school bully, full of big words, but lacking the capacity to act. There was something dark and dangerous about him, something inexplicably different. So why in the hell wasn't she cursing him and making a quick escape?

Draco moved back to the table and Ginny sat down cautiously. He gazed around at the books lying about, not really interested, until he caught sight of one half-covered by the rest. Ginny followed his gaze and tensed when she realized which book he was looking at. She made to grab it, but his pale hands reached out and snatched it from under the pile.

"_Mystics and Magiks_, Weasley? A bit dark for your tastes, isn't it?"

"It had a good section in it about the first Animagus, Falco Aesalon. I thought it might be a good idea to see how he first did it."

"I'm sure," Draco said, depositing the book back on the table and sitting back down in his leather chair. "And?"

"And what?"

"Have you tried it yet?"

Ginny shook her head. "No."

"Afraid, Weasley?" Draco asked, smirking devilishly.

"Of course not," she snapped in return.

"You should be. It's a dreadfully difficult task for someone like you."

"What, poor?"

"No, inept."

"Oh and I suppose it'd be a cakewalk for you, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret," Ginny replied, smiling in a sickeningly saccharine way.

Draco snarled. "As easy as getting Potter to turn you down for a date."

Ginny flushed bright red and had to clench her hands into fists to keep herself from punching the cheeky bastard. "Harry's never turned me down."

"Guess you're right, but then again it'd be hard to turn down someone he never notices. Especially when he's had someone like Cho Chang to satisfy him."

"Like you'd know."

"Oh, believe me Weasley, I know."

His eyes glittered maliciously at her and the implications of his words sunk in, causing Ginny's mouth to drop. Sure, she'd never liked Cho, but she couldn't believe the Asian beauty would have stooped so low as to sleeping with the likes of Draco Malfoy. Said Slytherin seemed to read her thoughts, or at least the doubt etched across her face.

"And I can't blame Potter in the least. Cho's a wild one in bed. You, however, are quite the little tease I hear. You know what the boy's call you when you're not around? Blue balls Weasley. Some of them have even got a bet going, betting to see who'll be the one to bed Gryffindor's little virgin. Your current boyfriend, Dean, is the favourite, which is why he's dating you in the first place. Betting pool's up to fifty Galleons, which is far more than I think you're worth."

Ginny's hand flew quicker than either one of them thought possible to slap Draco across the face, leaving a dark red mark across his pale cheek. He sat there, in shock. _Damn,_ he thought, _the bitch makes Granger's punch feel like foreplay._ As Draco tried to recover, Ginny stood, shaking in rage.

"How dare you, you insolent bastard! You have no right."

She looked around wildly, her Weasley temper nowhere near abated. Behind her was a bookshelf and she nearly cried out in victory. Picking up book after book, Ginny hurled each one at Draco, hitting her target with every throw. Draco flung up his arms to cover his face. Neither thought once of using their wands, one out of shock and the other anger.

"Stop it! Damnit Weasley, calm down!"

Draco had never hit a woman before. Cursed or hexed, sure, but never had he used physical violence. Both his mother and father had raised him above such indecency. But if Ginny Weasley continued in her current behavior, he might have to rethink his own personal rule. Another book flew at him and smacked him dead on in the face, busting his lip. _'That's it.'_

Draco launched himself from his seat and tackled Ginny to the ground. They hit the floor with Draco landing on top and the impact knocked the wind out of the raging Weasley. He briefly wondered if he'd hurt the girl, then mentally shook the thought from his head. _Why should I care? Wasn't she just trying to kill me two seconds ago?_

They stayed like that for over a minute, neither one moving. Draco became painfully aware of the close proximity of their bodies, how her small frame fit well under his, and her chest would rise up and down, brushing against his own in an unintentionally sensual manner. _She's a WEASLEY,_ he harshly reminded himself. Unfortunately, Draco Jr. didn't particularly seem to care, as was apparent from the slight tightness he was slowly starting to feel in his trousers. _I've got to get off of her, now._

Alas, Draco felt himself trapped as Ginny had wrapped her arms around his upper body when the two had fallen and she didn't appear to want to let go. Her brown eyes bore into his steel grey ones imploringly.

"Tell me you're lying," she said and Draco couldn't help but notice the slight quiver in her voice.

Draco said nothing, but his silence confirmed Ginny's worst fear. Her eyes filled with tears and she shoved him off of her, abruptly sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. "So, Michael and Dean, they both just dated me to-"

She couldn't finish her statement. Ginny's heart was racing and she tried to stop the tears from falling, to keep the sob that was choking her from escaping, but she could do neither. Draco simply sat there, unsure of what to do and quite confused because, for some inexplicable reason, he wished he _had _been lying. Though the thought baffled him, he didn't concentrate on it long. Though he'd been raised to detest all things Weasley, more prevalent was his upbringing as a gentleman. Unbidden, a memory from his youth rose in his mind, taking him back to his second year at Hogwarts, when he'd returned home for the Christmas holidays.

Draco had been wandering around the Manor, on his traditional hunt for his presents. Every year, his mother would try to hide his presents about the Manor in an effort to keep their contents a secret, and every year he'd hunt them down. Narcissa often scolded him saying that he'd ruin the surprise, but inwardly both parents were quite amused by their son's antics and would even reward him with double the presents if Draco did indeed succeed in finding their carefully hidden gifts. And, of course, each year he did.

As his silent footsteps carried him past his father's study, he was surprised to hear raised voices and angry words. The door was cracked open just enough that Draco could peer through. Apparently it was the tail end of their argument, as Lucius slammed his fist down on the teak desk, startling both Narcissa and Draco. He'd never seen his father so enraged, not as his mother at any rate. Usually, in the privacy of their own home, Lucius was quite loving towards his wife and son. Well, as loving as a Malfoy got.

"Damnit, Narcissa! It had to be done, for the good of our Lord."

Narcissa had said nothing, but stared at her husband with angry eyes, blue orbs cold as ice, a look Draco had thought he'd never see directed at his father. This seemed to enrage Lucius further because he picked up a glass paperweight that sat on his desk and hurled it out the far window. With that, he strode towards the door, causing Draco to scurry away from it and fling himself into the nearest closet until his father had passed. While Draco had never feared his father's hand, he knew better than to get in Lucius Malfoy's way when he was on a warpath.

Once his father's footsteps had faded, Draco timidly left the closet and returned to the office doorway. What he saw shocked him even more than his father's outburst. There, collapsed on the hardwood floor, was his mother. His beautiful, charming, regal mother had her knees tucked into her chest and was clutching her ever-present golden locket, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks.

Instinct took over and Draco forgot all of his proper training as he ran over to his mother and fell by her side, taking her in his arms and holding on as tightly to her as he could. Narcissa threw her arms around her son and sobbed into his shoulder. They sat there like that until Narcissa's tears had ended and her weeping had turned into the occasional sniffle. Draco didn't know if it had been minutes or hours or days and he didn't give a damn one way or the other. He would have sat there until the Apocalypse if it would have eased his mother's pain. Narcissa leaned back and gripped her son's shoulders, giving them a loving squeeze and a soft smile.

"Mother, are you all right?"

"I'll be fine, _mon chardonerret_."

"What was Father so angry about?"

"It's a long story, Draco. One day, I'll tell you. I promise."

"But not today?"

"No, not today."

Behind them, someone cleared their voice and the two turned to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway. There was a look of sorrow in his eyes that Draco had never seen before, but he was fairly certain it was more for causing his wife such pain than whatever it was they had been arguing about. Lucius entered the room and knelt down by his wife and son. He took Narcissa's face gently in his hands and kissed each tear-stained cheek.

"Forgive me, _ma gemme_."

"Always," Narcissa whispered and offered Lucius a sad smile.

Helping his wife stand, Lucius wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the room. Before he was completely out of sight, he shot Draco a look over his shoulder and mouthed, "Thank you." And then they were gone. Draco sat in the room a long time, wondering what could have possibly have caused such an argument between his parents. It was only when a house-elf cautiously entered the room, "Begging the young master's pardon for the interruption," that Draco snapped out of his reverie and swiftly left the cowering house-elf to fix the broken window.

As he made his way back up to his chambers, the hunt for his presents long forgotten, Draco had somewhat of an epiphany. His father had once told him to know his weaknesses so that he might overcome them and prevent his enemies from using them against him. Draco haughtily replied that Malfoys had no weaknesses. Lucius had laughed indulgently.

"_You_ have no weaknesses, Father," he'd replied, a bit peeved that his father seem to dismiss his comment so easily when he'd been raised to believe that being a Malfoy meant being better than everyone else.

"Of course I do," Lucius had nonchalantly replied, leaving his son gaping openly. "And close your mouth, Draco. You look like a fish."

"What're your weaknesses?" he'd asked.

"Isn't it obvious? You and your mother are the only two weaknesses I've ever had."

"How do you overcome that?"

Lucius smiled bitterly. "You don't."

It hadn't taken Draco long to figure out that his mother and father were his weaknesses as well. But, what's more than that, Draco now realized he could not stand the sight of crying women. He'd once seen Pansy cry before, when they were but nine years old and she'd broken her arm by falling off one of his Aethonons. It had made him extremely uncomfortable and he'd promised her anything he could think of if only she'd stop crying. Draco had ended up carrying Pansy a mile and a half back to his house and sat with her while their mothers fixed her arm, holding her good hand all the while. _Well, _he thought to himself, _now that I know my weakness, I can overcome it like Father said._ Of course, things are often much easier said than done.

So here he was, one of the most influential sixteen year olds in the Wizarding world, feeling trapped in the Room of Requirement with Ginny Weasley, whose tears both disturbed him and kept him from leaving. Draco didn't know what to do. He couldn't very well hug her or hold her hand. Such ministrations would make him appear weak. But he had no idea how long he could sit by and watch the girl in front of him cry before breaking down and saying or doing something incredibly stupid.

"Come on now, Weasley. Those filthy Mudbloods don't deserve your tears."

Ginny glanced up at Draco, her eyes red and face splotchy. "If you're trying to make me feel better, you're doing a horrendous job of it."

"Look all I'm saying is that you could do much better than them."

"I thought Weasleys were the scum of the earth?"

"That may be true, but at least your Pureblood scum. Much better than any Mudblood or Muggle scum."

Maybe it was the fact that Draco's voice was less taunting than usual (it could even be described as lightly teasing) or maybe it was the irony of the situation (after all, when had a _Malfoy_ ever attempted to comfort a _Weasley_?). Whatever the case, Ginny Weasley found herself doubled over in laughter. She was crying even harder now, for a completely different reason, and this left poor Draco quite confused.

"Weasley? Are you off your rocker?"

It took a good minute and a half before Ginny was able to compose herself. Sitting up, she wiped the tears from her face and smiled widely at Draco. "I'm quite dandy actually. I mean, I'm sitting in the Room of Requirement with my sworn enemy, who's just revealed to me that both of my boyfriends only dated me to get in my pants. Not to mention that said Slytherin rescued me from a vampire attack a little over a week ago, resulting in my owing him a Wizard's debt, which he could use to wreak havoc and destroy my life as I know it at any time he wishes.

But, of course, I can't tell anyone about this, which has made my insomnia twice as terrible as usual. Oh, and did I tell you that I was caught by Seamus Finnigan when I appeared out of the fireplace that night? Well, he's been threatening to tell Dean that I've been cheating on him, not that it really matters anymore because I'm dumping that git tomorrow as soon as I get the chance. And now that I've finally been able to release all my frustration out on you, my dear Mr. Malfoy, I feel much better and I think I'll finally be able to get some sleep. So here is where I bid you goodnight. It's been lovely chatting with you. Let's not do it again anytime soon."

With that, Ginny jumped off the floor and flounced out of the Room of Requirement back to Gryffindor Tower. It was nearly fifteen minutes later when Draco Malfoy finally exited the room, still quite shocked and speechless at the youngest Weasley's outburst. How in the world she'd been able to say it all in one breath he'd never know. As he headed back down to the dungeons and Slytherin common room, there was only one thought that crossed his mind.

_Ginny Weasley has gone completely and utterly mental._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: And here's the next installment. Again, please review to let me know what you think (I take everything but flames). Another hearty thanks to my fantabulous Beta, Alicia. Enjoy!

* * *

Pansy Parkinson was mad. Scratch that, she was _livid_. Her expensive, black stilettos clicked angrily against the stone floor of the Slytherin Common Room and the younger years scattered, fearful of upsetting her even further. Draco was sprawled along the couch, watching the young brunette with smirking lips and eyes full of mischief. Endora shook her head at Pansy's antics and went back to fixing the minor cuts and bruises that marred Draco's otherwise flawlessly patrician features.

"The littlest Weasley's got one Hell of an aim, eh?" Blaise remarked from the leather armchair he occupied with his fiancé, Daphne Greengrass.

Draco rolled his eyes over to the couple and shook his head. Daphne, with her strawberry-blonde hair and soft green eyes, was a sharp contrast to her dark fiancé, which was all the more obvious when she sat atop of him, as was her current position. They were two of the lucky ones involved in an arranged marriage, since they actually got along quite splendidly. In fact, although Blaise and Daphne had only known about their engagement since the end of spring, they'd been dating for the past two years. And Daphne had been planning their wedding, which was to take place the summer after their seventh year, ever since. Sure, her grades had slipped a bit, except in Potions (what self-respecting Slytherin could fail _that_ class?), but Blaise had casually dismissed this fact by claiming, "No Lady from the House of Zabini will ever have to work, so what does it matter?"

"Yeah? Well, I'll show her one hell of a _curse_ the next time I see that sad excuse for a witch. Honestly, resorting to physical violence? She's just as bad as the Mudblood," Pansy seethed, still pacing in front of the fireplace.

A fully-healed and once again-unblemished Draco rose from the couch, thanked Endora, who merely smiled and nodded, and walked over to his fuming friend. "Come on, Pansy. Don't waste your energy on her. She's beneath you."

His porcelain hands ran down her arms and his lips kissed the side of her neck. Some of the tension immediately left Pansy's body and she released a small sigh, resisting the urge to sink back into Draco's embrace. If it were just the _Les Dirigeants Sombres_, she would not have been so careful. But in public, well, Pansy had to be on her guard. Draco could get away with such displays of affection with any women he pleased. He was, after all, a Malfoy and possibly the most powerful teenager in all of England, at least politically. No one would dare cross or reprimand him. Pansy, though from a powerful family as well, could not be so free, at least not anymore.

There'd been a time when she and Draco had done as they pleased, sharing quick kisses in the Common Room or lingering touches during meals. Though there was a significant amount of lust between the two, both took comfort in the fact that there was a mutual understanding that their relationship would go no farther than an experimental friendship. But now that Pansy's parents were in negotiations with the Puceys about a possible engagement for she and their son, Adrian, who had graduated the previous year, she had to exhibit a certain amount of control. Adrian, who was not quite the fastest broom on the pitch, would make a perfect husband for Pansy in her father's eyes. He was respectable enough for marriage, but easily manipulated by feminine charms and it would take next to nothing for Pansy to convince him to allow her to run the Parkinson companies, if only in secret. However, like most Slytherins, Pucey was extremely jealous and if he suspected Pansy to be romantically involved with Draco, all hope of a marriage alliance would be lost. That was something she could not afford.

"Someone needs to put her in her place," Pansy grumbled, crossing her arms under her voluptuous chest. "I still can't believe you let the little wench get away with that."

"Believe me, Pansy, she'll pay. But for now, no one is to confront her. The Weaslette is my toy and you know I don't like to share."

Pansy turned, her violet eyes locking onto his cool grey ones, studying him carefully. "And what exactly do you have planned for your newest plaything?"

"You'll see," Draco replied with a smirk.

"What he means is he doesn't know. Not yet at least."

Draco's head whipped around to glare at Dorian, who sat in another one of the many leather chairs, engrossed in his Arithmancy homework. Dorian's quill was moving at a rapid rate across his parchment, quickly filling up the required ten inches. He finished the sentence he was scrawling and looked up, mocha eyes gleaming. "Not that I'm doubting you, Oh Fearless One. Having a Weasley in your debt will undoubtedly come in handy, but be careful with that one."

"Why?" Draco scowled, his tone warning and, had Dorian been anyone but a _Dirigeants Sombres_, he would have never dared his next statement.

"Because there's more to her than meets the eye. She's different than her brother, foolish and reckless to be sure, but there's something else there too." He shot him a meaningful look.

"Surely you're not suggesting what I think you are?" Draco scoffed, eyes disbelieving.

Dorian merely shrugged. "I'm just saying it's a possibility. Unlikely, but possible all the same."

"I agree," said Endora from her place on the couch. "But I don't think this is the time to discuss such matters."

"You're right," Draco nodded. "Perhaps later, but not now. We have more important things to discuss than Ginny Weasley."

The grandfather clock signaled to them that it was midnight and a quick glance around the Common Room alerted the five to the fact that, save for Crabbe, Goyle, and Daphne, they were once again alone. After a quick kiss and promises to be up soon, Blaise sent Daphne to their room (they'd long since moved in together, seeing no point in separating themselves when they'd be married within a year anyway). Draco's eyes searched the shadows for the figure he knew was there, but could find no trace of his guard. Satisfied at her secrecy, he put up Impenetrable Charms around the room and returned to the couch as Pansy deafened the two ogres.

"So," Blaise began, leaning forward in his chair. "Did you speak to him last night? What did he say?"

Draco smirked and leaned back, closing his eyes as he regaled his friends with the news he'd learned, leaving out a few pieces of information that could not yet be disclosed, even to those he actually trusted. For if Lucius Malfoy's plans were revealed before the proper preparations had been made, things could go very wrong indeed and this was something Draco could not allow.

* * *

_He was in the main parlour of the Malfoy Manor, reclining easily and yet with the perfect posture his breeding dictated. The room was immaculate as always, with its marbled floors, white and gold-trimmed furniture, and a spectacular view of the immense grounds. Johannes, Draco's Aethonon, flew by the window-wall, and his master couldn't help but smile. It was good to be home, even if it was only a recreation of his consciousness._

_"It's good to see you, Draco. How have things at school been progressing?"_

_Draco turned to his father, who was seated in the chair next to him, and gave him a brief update of all that been going on, including his encounters with the youngest member of the Weasley family. Lucius had not spoken the entire time, but snickered when Draco reiterated his latest encounter with the she-Weasel, causing Draco to blush slightly._

_"And now you have one of the Weasleys in your debt. A welcome surprise, to be sure, but be careful of her, Draco. That family tends to cause more problems then they're worth."_

_"Of course, Father." _

_Taking a small sip of his tea, Draco reveled in the lemony taste as it coursed down his throat and wished that he could truly be sitting in the Parlour Room with his father, instead of merely Dream-walking. Hot anger ran through him at the thought of _his father_, a noble pureblood, imprisoned in Azkaban prison. Anger at himself for not being at the Ministry of Magic to help, anger at the Dark Lord for not being able to release him, but most of all, anger at Harry Potter. Everything in his life that had gone wrong could somehow be traced back to that bloody Scarhead and, to Draco, this was the most unforgivable of sins. Not only had Potter disgraced his family, but he'd brought pain to his mother. _

_Unknowingly, Draco's features softened at the thought of her. His beautiful mother, with her soft blue eyes and gentle touch, that cared more for her son and husband than anyone else in the world. Draco knew she'd been going through immense pain, being separated from them both, and his blood boiled because there was not a damn thing he could do to ease her pain. _

_"I miss you," he blurted out suddenly. And it was true._

_Despite what 99 of the Wizarding population thought, Lucius Malfoy was a damned good father and Draco loved him. His father had always been there for him, a guiding hand, a firm teacher, a caring parent, and all that had been taken away, bringing sorrow as well as anger. And fear. Oh yes, fear was there as well. Fear that he would not be strong enough to complete the tasks his father had asked of him. Fear that he would prove a failure. _

_What they were planning was not some stupid Quidditch game. If they were to lose, the consequences would be worse than the look of disappointment on his father's face and Potter's gloating. If they lost, it could mean all of their lives._

_Lucius reached out and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing slightly. He offered Draco a small smile that said more than words could have. "I miss you too, Draco."_

_Then they got down to business. Lucius told Draco all that Voldemort had relayed to him. There were attacks that were planned for Essex, a new Death Eater initiation scheduled for next Friday, and it had been confirmed that Hestia Jones was indeed a member of the Order of the Phoenix as had been suggested. _

_"And what about the ritual?" Draco asked somewhat impatiently, earning a slightly disapproving glance from his father._

_"The preparations are being made. The Dark Lord has assigned specific members to collect the needed items and everything should be ready by the Vernal Equinox."_

_"Tell me Wormtail is not part of the team."_

_Lucius snorted. "Please, do you really think the Dark Lord is so foolish?" He pointedly ignored the look Draco sent him. "Dolohov and your Uncle Rodolphus are in charge of retrieving the necessary dark objects and Yaxley will be providing the Portkey."_

_"I'd forgotten that Yaxley worked with the Department of Transportation. How are Uncle Rodolphus and Aunt Bella doing?"_

_"Quite well, from what I hear from you mother. I believe your next package should contain something… _special_ from your Aunt. A belated back-to-school gift, I suppose."_

_Draco and his father shared a knowing look. Aunt Bella's ideas of gifts were always _interesting_, to say the least. After his fourth year when Potter, Weasley, and Granger had humiliated him by turning him into a slug-like creature, his Aunt had sent him a portrait of the three of them as a fifteenth birthday gift. Of course, the portrait depicted them undergoing various means of torture, which Draco found over-the-top, albeit slightly amusing. Eventually, he had to silence their screams, which had echoed throughout the Manor, keeping all of its inhabitants from sleeping peacefully. The portrait now rested in one of the many unused hallways of Malfoy Manor and was brought out only when Bella paid a visit. _

_"I can hardly wait. Mother has checked it to ensure it won't get me expelled, hasn't she?"_

_"Of course." Here Lucius paused and studied his son carefully. "Draco, you have been practicing the spells for the ceremony, haven't you?"_

_"A few nights a week. I've been using the Forbidden Forest, like you suggested too."_

_"And you've taken the necessary precautions, I presume?"_

_Draco shot his father an annoyed look. "I haven't been followed, Father. I know how to cover my own tracks, you know. I'm not such a child anymore."_

_Lucius shook his head and smirked knowingly. "So obstinately independent, like your mother."_

_"Really? She says I get that from you."_

_"I'm sure she does," Lucius answered, his voice softening at the mere thought of his wife. "I know Hogwarts isn't nearly as far as Durmstrang, but she misses you more than you know, Draco."_

_"Could I… do you think it'd be possible for me to visit her sometime this week?"_

_"I doubt it'd be a wise idea," he answered with a sigh. "Your mother's not strong enough in Occlumency to keep Dumbledore unaware of your interactions." _

_Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Lucius held up a hand and continued. "I know you're a talented Occlumens, Draco, but it takes two of equal power to keep other wizards from stumbling upon this sort of communication, especially a wizard with Dumbledore's power." Draco did not miss the distaste in his father's tone and knew that Lucius Malfoy resented the old wizard for his power. Jealousy may have been a factor, but it was more that they'd had to be especially careful to prevent Dumbledore from becoming aware of their plans, which had most assuredly set them back farther than desired._

_"You'll just have to stick to letters for now," he continued. "Your mother understands and I know she appreciates your efforts."_

_"I write to her every week, "Draco answered. "Sometimes more, depending on what's going on. I just wish I could be there for her."_

_"As do I, Draco, but we both must remember that your mother is a strong woman." A smile crept its way onto Lucius' face. "It's partly why I married her."_

_"And because you love her."_

_"Yes, there's always that." The two were silent for a moment, Lucius thinking of his beloved wife and Draco hoping one day he too would know what it was like to love someone so completely. "And speaking of marriage, how's your search coming along?"_

_"What search? My options are rather limited, if you don't remember. Daphne's engaged to Blaise, Pansy's in talks with the Puceys, Tracey's a half-blood, Mother doesn't like Selene, and Millicent's my guard. I could always look in Ravenclaw, but Morag's in talks with Montague, Lovegood is completely bonkers, and Sally-Anne… well, you've seen her. Which leaves Endora and Lucinda."_

_"What about Mandy Brocklehurst?"_

_"We tried dating," Draco replied with a shake of his head. "It'd never work. We're far too similar, plus she wants to work with animals. Could you imagine a Lady Malfoy working an actual job? And such a mundane one at that?"_

_"Well, how do you feel about Endora and Lucinda? The Vaisey and Hudgins families are both respectable enough."_

_He shrugged. "They're all right, I guess. Lucinda's a bit fragile and naïve. I don't know if she could handle the life of a Malfoy. And Endora, well, she's beautiful, everything a Slytherin should want."_

_"But you don't love her," Lucius finished._

_"I know it's stupid. I know few people of our station are able to have what you and Mother do, but I don't want to give up looking for it, not yet anyway."_

_"I've worked hard enough to secure our position that you don't have to. Besides, both Nelson Baddock and Andrew Hudgins have been after a betrothal between you and their daughters since you were born. I have a feeling they'll probably hold off taking any other offers until you're engaged, or at least until Selene and Lucinda are 18 or 19. And I don't think you're being stupid. Marriage is difficult enough with someone you care about. It can be almost impossible with someone you don't."_

_Draco smirked and leaned back in his chair. "And they say that Slytherins can't feel love."_

_"Only those who don't really know us," Lucius replied. "It's getting late. My guards will be by soon. Send your council my regards. What do your classmates call them? Les Dirigeants Sombres?" Draco nodded. "Well, tell them what you must, but remember, never trust anyone completely Draco."_

_"Not even you?"_

_Lucius smiled. "If I told you not to, would it make a difference?"_

_"No."_

_"Ah, stubbornness. Now that is most assuredly a trait of the Malfoy line. All the same, be careful. Oh, and do tell Millicent to reassure her father that I'm fine. I appreciate that Thaddeus has continued to petition for my release, especially when your mother has become otherwise preoccupied, what with taking care of our numerous business ventures."_

_"How did you know he was so worried about you?"_

_"I've known Thaddeus for quite some time now and he's one of the few people I would call a friend. I would guess that I know him almost as well as he knows me and, as my guardian, it's his job to worry about me. I would expect nothing less. Au revoir, mon fils." And with that, the connection was broken, thrusting Draco back into his private room in Slytherin house and Lucius into his dank cell in Azkaban. _

* * *

It was a typical Friday morning in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The teachers were preparing for their lessons, the students just waking up, and the house-elves bustling about in the kitchen to ensure breakfast would be ready by seven. And as the inhabitants of Gryffindor House herded down the steps for the last day of class before the weekend, none of them could have predicted what was about to happen.

Ginny Weasley was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace with an odd sort of smile on her face. Now, there was nothing abnormal about that, nor was their anything strange about the way her face lit up when Dean Thomas came down the staircase and she bounded his way to accompany him to breakfast. But if one had been looking closely, it would have indeed been strange to note the evil glint in the youngest Weasley's brown orbs.

Dean chattered all the way to the Great Hall and Ginny felt herself nod at all the appropriate times, but her mind was on a very different subject matter than how her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend had scored twenty points for Gryffindor in Charms the previous day. It was only later, when the Great Hall was full of students, including her own brother, that Ginny turned her full attention to the attractive Gryffindor on her left.

And soon everyone else was looking their way too because Ginny had begun to kiss the edge of Dean's ear, as she knew he liked it, and trailed her tongue from the base of his ear to the outer rim of his collared shirt. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were enthralled in a serious conversation regarding an article in the Daily Prophet, and there was no angry redhead screaming at her yet, but everyone knew it would come, and soon if the fiery Gryffindor didn't stop her actions. For she'd begun to unbutton not only Dean's shirt, but her own as well, revealing a small amount of cleavage.

Dean, who was blushing enough to do a Weasley proud, turned to his girlfriend and barely managed to whisper, "Ginny, what are you doing?"

Ginny, however, was not so discreet and spoke loud enough that the entire Great Hall could hear. "Well, I'm finally ready to take that next step, Dean. And I wanted it to be in a place where everyone could witness my undying love for you."

This finally drew the trio's attention and while Harry and Hermione gaped at Ginny, who had begun undoing the buckle of Dean's pants while he unsuccessfully tried to stop her, Ron stomped over to his baby sister and yanked her hands away from Dean's pants.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?!"

Calmly removing her hands from her brother's grasp, Ginny pushed Dean against the table and straddled him. She held up one hand to hold off her brother for a second longer and used the other to knead Dean's chest, eliciting a groan from him in the process.

"As I just told Dean, I'm ready for sex and I want the whole school to know it." Here Ginny paused and kissed Dean on the lips with more passion than she ever had before. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and met his own and the whole school gasped at the display. Only one student, a smirking Slytherin, guessed at what Ginny really had in store for the unsuspecting Gryffindor. And he was quite sure sex was not on the agenda.

"Of course," Ginny continued when she came up for breath, "that assumes I receive fifty percent of the profit."

"Profit?" both Ron and Dean chorused, though Ron's voice held confusion and Dean's resonated dread.

"Yes, the profit from the bet you and a few other guys have going for who will be the first one to take my virginity. I believe the pool is up fifty Galleons now, right?"

Dean had a moment to look simultaneously terrified and apologetic before Ginny stood and kneed him in the crotch, causing him to double over and fall onto the floor. Her eyes were blazing as she finally showed her true emotions and it took all of her will not to kick the boy at her feet once more. _No,_ she thought, _Ron will take care of that for me._

"There aren't enough Galleons in the world to buy me," Ginny declared, turning and facing the rest of the school, doing a damned good job of not crying like she wanted to. She saw a few of the guys duck their heads and she tried to remember their faces and made a mental note to never speak to them. Sadly, there were a few others from Gryffindor, but most were in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Ginny was most surprised to note that only two were from Slytherin, and they were both younger than her.

She didn't say another word, but marched out of the Great Hall and towards her first class, Herbology, thankful once again that none of the teachers dined with the students in the morning. The last thing she heard before she was fully out of earshot was her brother shouting obscenities at Dean and Ginny smiled in satisfaction.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Ginny asked as she strolled into the Potions classroom for her detention with Snape.

Unfortunately for her, some well-meaning first year had run to fetch the nearest professor as soon as the fight between her brother and Dean had started. _Well_, Ginny thought with a smirk_, it was actually more of a thrashing. I've never seen Ron so mad._ Indeed, it had taken both Harry and Seamus to subdue him and keep him from causing permanent damage to his classmate. When Snape, who just so happened to be the nearest professor, had arrived on the scene, he immediately gave Ron a weeks worth of detention and Dean two weeks. And, of course, since she'd incited the whole thing, she'd gotten one as well, but only one and that slightly baffled her. She was a Gryffindor _and_ a Weasley. Why had he gone soft on her?

"I asked Snape to let me preside over your detention."

"And he just let you?"

Draco looked at her as if she was an idiot and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn't know professors were allowed to do that."

"They can, they just usually don't."

There was a heavy pause in which neither spoke. Ginny simply kept her gaze on the floor, not sure what to say, because she could definitely feel Draco's gaze on her. She thought he might eventually say something, tell her to clean the cauldrons or something, but he didn't and after a few minutes, the silence became too much.

"Why did he only give me one detention anyway?" she asked, raising her gaze to meet his own.

"Because he had to. Regulation requires any student who uses violence against another to receive at minimum one detention for their actions."

Ginny's eyebrows rose at that and she eyed the Slytherin with amusement. "You say that like it comes directly from the Hogwarts Handbook or something."

"It's outlined in the Hogwarts Code of Conduct for Students. I am a Prefect, if you remember, Weasley, and we have to know all the rules."

"Oh, right, but that still doesn't explain why he only gave me one. You said at minimum."

Draco rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Don't you get it? Snape may be Slytherin-biased, but he's not a complete arse. To be honest, if your brother was anyone else, he probably would have only gotten one detention too. But he's a triple-threat: a Gryffindor, a Weasley, and Potter's best friend. There's no way Snape could refuse the opportunity to cause him as much grief as possible."

"And you're saying he didn't do the same to me out of the kindness of his heart?"

"No, I'm saying that Thomas insulted your virtue with his little bet and that means you have the right to defend yourself by any means necessary." Here, Draco smirked, and it wasn't an entirely unfriendly smirk. "Honestly, I thought you went too easy on the Mudblood."

Ginny could feel her mouth drop but she didn't care. What Draco just said was dangerously close to sounding like some sort of moral and that clashed with everything Ginny had been raised believing. Slytherins, and especially Malfoys, didn't have a decent set of ethics, did they?

"Do all Slytherins feel that way?"

"If they're not a disgrace to the House, then yes."

Mouth hanging open, Ginny just stared at Draco in disbelief. Slytherins had morals? Snape had a heart? When had this all happened? Before she could even formulate a response, Draco closed her mouth with his hand and shook his head at her.

"That's a good way to catch flies, Weasley, but if you're really that hungry I'd be willing to give you a few Sickles to get some dinner. Athena knows your family's got enough mouths to feed."

And all was right in the world again. "Just shut it, Malfoy. Tell me what you want me to do because the sooner we get this over with the sooner I can leave."

"Follow me," Draco replied, sweeping past her and making his way out of classroom. He paused at the door when he realized she wasn't behind him. "Either come with me, Weasley, or you can spend the next four hours scrubbing this room clean without the aid of magic."

Without another moment of hesitation, Ginny followed Draco out of the empty room and up into the main part of the castle. They'd gone up eight flights of stairs before Draco finally turned down a familiar hallway and stopped in front of the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

"We're at the Room of Requirement."

"Thank you so much for that brilliant deduction, Weasley."

"Can the sarcasm, Malfoy. What are we doing here?"

Turning to face his companion, Draco Malfoy had a mischievous look in his eyes that made Ginny want to take a step back. She suddenly wished she'd taken him up on the other offer and had stayed to clean the Potions classroom. However, she hadn't and Draco's next words were so unexpected that her brown eyes widened so much that they nearly popped out of her head.

"We're going to make you an Animagus."


End file.
